Warmth in the Frozen North
by S-Michael
Summary: [AU]Raki is reunited with Clare in the city of Pieta as it is being evacuated. Over the next seven years, how will his presence affect things? [ClareRaki, some HelenRaki]
1. The Fall of Pieta

Author's Note: Here we go, my first _Claymore_ chapter work. I hope you love it. Please R&R, people!

Warmth in the Frozen North

S-Michael

Chapter 1:

The Fall of Pieta

The mass evacuation of Pieta was commencing. People were gathering up their things and leaving. Generally, there were no complaints; after all, these people had seen what the Awakened Beings had done to their neighbors, and there were more coming. Still, no matter what the oncoming disaster is, there are always a few people who feel that they _need_ to bring more stuff than they can. Clare heard a few of these complaints, but not many. Maybe it was because she was the lowest ranking Claymore there (and in totality), but that would imply that these people not only knew what the warriors' ranks were (and they didn't exactly wear rank badges), but also understood what they meant, both things which, in her experience, humans neither knew nor cared about. Or maybe they were simply all going to Miria. These people might not have known exact ranks, but people could always tell who the leader was.

Speaking of Miria, Clare saw her dealing with such a person as she was walking down the street thinking these thoughts. "Look, I'm sorry, but we're in a hurry, and we don't have enough time to set up slave transports. You're just going to have to set them free."

"You don't understand, ma'am—if I lose an _entire shipment_, the Slavers' Guild will have my head!" the man pleaded.

"Just explain to them what happened—" Miria began.

"I shouldn't even _be_ here," the slaver continued. "A wheel fell off of one of the caravan wagons a while back, and it took us about a week to repair the damage, so we're about a week late. We should have been here and gone a long time ago! Even ignoring that…lady, this is the _Slavers' Guild_ we're talking about! They don't have a _drop_ of compassion in their bones!"

Clare broke in. "Where are they being held?" She ignored Miria's and Helen's surprised looks.

The slaver, thinking that she was going to help him, relaxed and said: "In the basement under the courthouse. Two blocks down." Clare jogged to the place, while the slaver ran as fast as he could, trying to keep up. She threw the doors open, went down into the dungeon, and stopped to look around at the prisoners. Could he be here?

"CLARE!" Raki shouted from behind the bars of one of the cells, confirming his presence. Clare, not usually one to show emotion, expressed her feelings by running to his cell and ripping the door off of its hinges—no mean feat, even for a Claymore. _My arms will be sore in the morning,_ she thought (in actuality, her arms would _not_ be sore in the morning, or at least not from that, as that night she was going to awaken them and then have her body forced back to normal). He ran to her and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her chest, though she was sure he didn't mean it like that. He was just glad to see her, is all.

"W-what are you doing?" the slaver asked.

"He is leaving this place," Clare said.

"I…can't allow that," the slaver said.

Clare slowly drew her sword, and leveled it at him. "Really? You _can't?_"

"Y-you can't do that. I know. If a Claymore kills a human being, she gets executed by her comrades," the slaver said nervously, sweat that had nothing to do with the exercise he had had following Clare beading down his face.

"You make the mistake of assuming that I value my life above his," Clare said, dead flat and yet somehow with a murderous edge.

"I-I-I _still_ can't allow this," the slaver said, trembling so badly that he could barely stay on his feet and yet standing his ground all the same, unarmed, and staring down the blade of a Claymore's claymore.

"Look, sir, I suggest that you stand down," said Helen, who had gone unnoticed during this drama. "Like Miria said, you're going to have to free these slaves, anyway. It's not worth your life."

"Myabe not, but my wife and children are. How am I supposed to support them if the Slavers' Guild kills me?" said the slaver, his eyes never leaving the sword that he felt certain would be his demise. "I'm sorry, but I can't let these slave go free. Kill me if you must!" _Such admirable passion…too bad it's wasted on such a wicked occupation._

Helen tossed her bag of money at him.

"Wha…what is this?" he asked, not comprehending.

"I'm buying the slaves and setting them free," Helen said simply.

"I…I…" the slaver was speechless, blinking and staring dumbly at Helen.

"I'm giving you an out that allows you to save face and retain your life. I suggest you take it," Helen said.

He was shocked back into himself. "Oh. Yes! Yes, ma'am! But…uh…this is way too much, even for all of them."

"Keep the change," Helen said. "Use it to feed your family while you find yourself a less unsavory line of work. Now, get the keys and set these people free."

"Yes, ma'am! Thank you, ma'am!" the slaver said, running off to do as he was bid.

The slaves cheered as Helen, Clare, and Raki left the dungeon. "You gave him all your money," Clare said.

Helen shrugged. "It's not like I'm going to have much use for it. After all, like Miria said, we were sent up here to die."

"WHAT?" Raki demanded.

"It does not concern you, Raki," Clare said. "Evacuate south, like everyone else."

"No way! After being reunited with you at last, and especially after what you just said about being willing to die for me, you expect me to leave you?" Raki demanded incredulously. "I am not leaving! I already told you, all of those months ago, that if you die, I die! I'm staying right here!"

"Oh, my, isn't your pet thoroughly dedicated to you?" said Helen. "It's impressive, how well you've got him trained—he hasn't even felt your body in months—" Clare lunged at her with her sword. "Don't hate me because I'm right," Helen added.

"You're a pervert!" Raki said. He added, softly, "It's not like that at all…"

"Leave, Raki," Clare said, her sword already resheathed. She hadn't of actually been trying to kill Helen after all…

"Not a chance! I'm staying with you! I don't care if I do die! Use my body as a shield if you like, but I'm staying!"

"You'll die for sure!" Helen said, beating Clare to the punch. "The organization has sent us all up here to the north, in order to use us as a shield, so that they can buy time against the invasion of an army of Aw—of Voracious Eaters. Chances are good that none of us will survive this; _you_ won't stand a snowball's chance in hell!"

"I don't care! I'm staying with Clare," Raki said stubbornly, tears running down his face.

They were silent for a minute. "Very well," Clare said. "Lets find someplace to hide you." Raki nodded, knowing that this was the best he was going to get. _Besides, if I were in the actual battle, I'd just get in the way._

Miria looked from Clare to Helen when they returned, than looked at Raki.

"I'm not leaving," he said preemptively.

"I'm going to hide him somewhere before the battle starts," Clare said apologetically.

Miria recognized him then. She snapped her fingers. "That boy who used to follow you around. Your name was Lucky, wasn't it?"

"Close. Raki," said Raki.

"Right. Well, you might as well hide him in the cave we had our meeting in last night," Miria said. "He should be safe there."

"I'd like to be useful, if at all possible," Raki said.

Miria considered. She tossed him a container of pills. "Find a knife, and cut twelve of these in half, so that there's half of a pill for each of the twenty-four of us. After these people have evacuated, look through the buildings for anything of value or of use they might have left behind, and move it to the cave. I doubt that they'll be back for their stuff, and besides, there's no sense letting it get destroyed, after all."

Raki did not like the implication that the coming battle would destroy a good number of buildings. Or the implication that the Claymores were going to lose said battle (_"I doubt they'll be back"_). "This evacuation will take a while. What should I do in the interim?"

Miria shrugged. She looked at Clare. "What does he normally do for you?"

Helen snorted. "You're going to whore him out to all the warriors here? I don't think we have that kind of time!"

"He's my cook." Clare said.

"Uh-huh, of _course_ he is," Helen teased. "Since when does one of us need a cook, anyway?"

"Well, then, Raki, you can cook us a feast," said Miria. "Mind you, we don't eat a lot, but there _are_ twenty-four of us here."

Raki nodded. "Lots of cattle are being abandoned. I'll slaughter one of them. That should do it." Part of him wanted to salute before he left to fulfill his assigned tasks. He didn't, though.

"Is any of that really necessary?" Helen asked.

"Not really. But it _does_ give him something to do," Miria said.

"Oh. I see. But what's this about halving pills?" Helen asked.

"You're going to have to find out when everyone else does," Miria said.

-

Raki checked on the large pot, tasting the contents, and added a few spices.

Jean walked in. "You're the boy that Clare came up here to find, aren't you?" she said.

Raki nodded. "I'm Raki. And you are?"

"Jean."

"So, she talked about me?" Raki asked.

"Some. She doesn't talk a lot. Neither do I," said Jean.

"Ah. I see," Raki said.

"Perhaps _you_ could tell me about yourself?" suggested Jean.

"Don't you have important Claymore stuff to do?" Raki asked.

"Not at the moment," Jean said.

Raki shrugged, and stirred the stew, more to give his hands something to do than because it needed it. "What's there to tell? My family was killed by a yoma who then disguised itself as my brother. He tried to eat me, but Clare saved me. I followed her out of town," or at least, this was the sort version, "and eventually, she allowed me to travel with her. We got separated, and now we're back together," another "short version."

"Clare obviously values you," Jean pointed out.

"Yeah…well…" Raki shrugged. "What about you?"

"What's there to tell?" Jean echoed Raki's previous statement.

Raki gave her an incredulous look. "You're a _Claymore_. Erm, no offense."

Jean held up her hand. "Relax. We may not use the word amongst ourselves all too often, but it's hardly a derogatory term," _unlike "silver-eyed witches."_

"Oh. Good. Like I said, though, you're a Claymore: there has _got_ to be a story behind _that,_" Raki pointed out.

Jean shrugged. "Not as much as you might think. My parents had too many children, so they sold me to the Organization. I was made into a Claymore, and trained to fight yoma. Clare saved me from turning into an awakened being, and I'm following her until I can repay that debt. The end."

"There's _got_ to be more to it than _that!_" Raki protested.

"And there's got to be more to your story than what you said," Jean pointed out.

"Fair enough," Raki said. "It looks like the last villagers are leaving. I had better get on my other duties soon."

"What about…?" Jean gestured towards the food.

"Oh, don't worry about it. That stuff needs a good four hours to sit properly, anyway," Raki said. "You know, it's a strange atmosphere, that of a city in the process of being abandoned, in anticipation of battle. I've never really felt anything quite like it before. You know?"

Jean, who was completely indifferent to the mood of civilians and so had no idea what he was talking about, nodded.

-

Jean was mortally wounded. She limped of towards the cave that Raki was hiding in. She didn't _really_ believe that he could help mend her wounds, but the other option was to lie down in a pool of her own blood (and that of other people and things) and die. Not that she had any problem with that. She had repaid Clare for saving her from awakening—by the same coin, as a matter of fact—and so could die in peace. Of course, if there were any way in which she _could_ survive, she would try, though (as long as it wasn't degrading). That was just what living things did; they strive to live, no matter how very not worth the effort it is. She stumbled into the cave.

"Jean! Are you alright?"

Jean smiled at the obviousness of the answer to this question. _He remembered my name._ For some reason, the fact filled her with warmth. After all, most humans never bothered to learn the names of Claymores, and here he was, after meeting nearly twenty he had never seen before… "I need some medical attention. Is there any bandages in here?"

Raki immediately found them and brought them to her. Jean undressed, and Raki blanched a little(whether at her nudity, the wounds, or…_that_, Jean would never know), but he kept his head, and assisted her in bandaging herself. "There we go. Now lay down and get some rest."

"Who are we kidding? I'm not going to survive. I have a hole in my guts and massive blood loss," Jean said. _Not to mention, my body was used like a pincushion by Clare's claws._

"Don't say that!" Raki cried at her. He started to tear up.

"You're crying? Over me?" Jean asked. The idea that someone would cry over her, a Claymore, was beyond perplexing…but it also filled her with gratitude.

_The food had been delicious, especially when you considered that these northern animals were all rumored to have terrible-tasting flesh. (It was partially due to the breeds of animal, bred more to be able to survive in the tundra than anything else, and partially because they were as a rule malnourished and stringy.) Miria had stood, indicating that she was about to speak. "I recommend you savor this meal, warriors; it will most likely be your last," she said. Raki looked at her in shocked disbelief. "Raki, hand out the halved pills. This won't be a battle to win, it will be a battle to survive…"_

The boy, being the innocent that he was, could not believe how blithely Miria had commented about their own disposability. It was the same; he would fret over the lives of Claymores, and cry over those who fall in battle. Why? Because he _cared_; he well and truly cared. Having him cry over her made her feel like she _mattered_, something she had not noticed until that moment was lacking from her life, and indeed, from the lives of all Claymores. Jean had told Clare that she would use her new life however she saw fit, and now, she was glad that she had used it wisely. Jean gestured for Raki to come closer, and then she kissed him. It was not a thing of passion, or of romance, though; it was nothing more than or less than a very heart-felt "thank you." And then, she was dead.

-

It was the next morning when the survivors of the battle, being Clare, Miria, Helen, Deneve, Cynthia, Tabitha, and Uma, awoke. They started to dig graves, but they noticed that though Jean wasn't amongst the living, her body wasn't anywhere to be found, either. "I'll look for her," Miria said. "Just keep digging graves."

She headed for the cave where they had hidden Raki. Sure enough, there was Jean's body. Raki had cleaned her up, and wrapped her in a sheet respectfully. He looked up when she entered the cave. "Miria. Is it over?"

"Yes," Miria said.

"And…Clare?" Raki asked.

"She's alive." Miria said.

The tension seemed to physically drain out of him. "Oh, thank you, God of Rabona." But the relief was short-lived. "Who…how many died?"

"Seventeen. Including Jean. We're digging the graves as we speak," Miria said. She picked up Jean's body.

Raki fell to the ground. "Seventeen? Seventeen _dead?_ Who…who survived?"

Miria listed off the survivors. Raki stood, and began to follow her out. "Where are you going?"

"I'm helping," Raki said.

"Stay here."

"No way! There aren't any yoma about, are there? I barely know these people, granted, but I _do_ want to lay them to rest!"

"The frozen earth is too hard for you to make any sort of leeway in. Especially without the proper tools."

"I'll prep the bodies, then! But I'm _not_ going to do nothing for people who died protecting me and everyone else!"

Raki stared into her eyes defiantly, and Miria returned the gaze, contemplating. Finally, she nodded. "Very well." She turned and left, and he followed.

It was not easy work for him; the bodies had been out overnight, and had frozen solid. He had to create a bonfire in order to thaw them out enough to be able to arrange their bodies into a manner that seemed respectful. Of course, many of them were in pieces, which made things ever more complicated. Raki didn't exactly have a needle and thread on him, and didn't know how to stitch, even if he had, so he just decided to arrange the body parts as best as he could, and that they'd just have to lower the bodies into the graves piece-by-piece. Far and away, it was the most gruesome task that he had ever had to undertake, but he did it, silently bearing it, in order to honor these fallen warriors.

It took the entire day and night, but the graves had at last been dug, and the bodies lowered into them as the sun dawned on a new day. It seemed, in some way, appropriate, that they should be buried at dawn.

"Someone should say something," Raki said. "To commemorate them."

The Claymores looked at one another. When one of them died, her companions usually buried her in silence, left the sword to mark the grave, and left. There were no words.

Miria cleared her throat, somewhat awkwardly. "We gather here to mourn the passing of many great warriors: Flora, Number Eight in the Organization; Jean, Number Nine in the Organization; Undine, Number Eleven in the Organization; Veronica, Number Thirteen in the Organization…" and on the list went. Raki, who would never forget their symbols or what they looked like, strived to memorize their names and ranks, as well. "They were brave warriors, who fought bravely, and died bravely. May they live on in our hearts; they will not be forgotten."

_They will not be forgotten…_ And now Raki cried. Now he allowed himself to cry. As foreign as the concept of being cried over was to Jean, so it was to the other Claymore, who stood and watched as he cried for their companions, transfixed. He ran out of tears, and they filled in the graves. At around noontime, everything was done to perfection, and Raki realized that he hadn't eaten or slept since the day before yesterday. Suddenly, he was overcome with severe fatigue and painful hunger, simultaneously. Clare handed him some dried meat.

"Thank you," Raki said, and then he scarffed it down with no thought to looking neat. He tried to walk somewhere, but now he couldn't even keep his eyes open. Clare picked him up and carried him to the cave. "Thank…you…" He buried his face in the nape of Clare's neck, taking in her scent and quickly losing consciousness. He had not been awake when, many months ago, after he had left his hometown but before Clare had agreed to take him on as her cook, she had carried him to safety, but deep in the back of his head, he had been aware in some way, and deep in the back of his head, being held like he was, taking in Clare's scent with every breath like he was, he remembered, in some way. He was asleep long before they arrived at the cave.

-

The next day, they took a large tent, dried food, and some heavy clothes for Raki, and then they left, looking for any other towns north of Pieta.

"You know, you don't have to restrain yourself for our sake," Helen said to Clare. "After all, we're all going to be alone together for a very long time. You might as well indulge yourself in his body."

"Nothing inappropriate goes on between Clare and myself," Raki snapped at her. "You know what I think? I think that the reason you keep saying things like that is because _you're_ the one who wants me!" Helen recoiled like it was a physical blow. Something about the look on her face and the way she moved in that instant alerted Raki to it: "Oh my God. It's true, isn't it? I was just making stuff up. I didn't actually think…wow." The situation had gotten awkward. Raki decided that he needed to change the subject, and quick, before it got even more awkward. He would have stood there drawing a blank, making situation more awkward with his silence, but it just so happened that there was something that he had been meaning to talk to the warriors about:

"I want to learn how to fight," Raki said.

"Even amongst us, you wish to be the protector?" Raki would never later on remember who had said this.

"No, it's nothing like that. I know that even if I were to become the greatest human warrior to have ever lived, I'll never be the equal of even the least amongst Claymores. I just…don't want to be a burden. I don't want to drag you all down, make you feel like you've got to protect me," Raki said earnestly.

Miria considered it for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well. We will do what we can." She smirked a bit. "And with our training, you may very well _become_ the greatest human warrior ever."

**Next Chapter: Seven Years**


	2. Seven Years

Warmth in the Frozen North

S-Michael

Chapter 2:

Seven Years

This city had been utterly destroyed, like so many others in the frozen northern wastelands. Clare thought once again that but for a broken wheel on a slave wagon, Raki could have been in one of these towns when they were destroyed. Had things gone smoothly, after all, the slavers would have passed through Pieta a week earlier, and would have been and gone with no trace by the time Clare had shown up. She would have spent these last two years searching for a boy who was most likely dead.

Raki slipped himself under her arm, so that it was draped over his shoulders. The fifteen-year-old was becoming a lot more physical of late. Clare thought that it was because Helen was so physical with him, and he was getting desensitized to it. She didn't mind, really; in fact, it was quite pleasant.

"Food's ready," Raki said. Clare nodded. They had a group meal every other day. The ex-Claymores averaged half a plate each (the half-awakened eating more than the normal ones), and Raki dried the leftovers so that he could eat them over the course of the next two days, until he cooked the group another meal. Clare didn't know why he didn't cook when it was just himself eating; he was a phenomenal chef, and seemed to love doing it (indeed, he loved food so much that he'd be at risk of getting fat if he didn't get so much exercise keeping up with the group and then during his sword practice).

They arrived, and everyone was already there, waiting. Raki never served the food until everyone was gathered. Now they were all gathered, so Raki served the food. Fresh polar bear sirloin steaks; yum, yum. Deneve had killed the animal, skewering it quite easily on her sword, or rather, Undine's sword. It was exceptionally fresh, and very bloody, as it was cooked rare, quite a rarity (no pun intended), as a polar bear could, if properly preserved, last them several weeks (but properly preserved meat would never be raw enough to be cooked rare). Everyone ate everything on their plates, even though Raki had put a little more on them than they would usually eat (he had had a while in which to learn how to judge their appetites, after all).

"Delicious!" Deneve declared, patting her stomach.

"You flatter me," Raki said.

"Nah, she's just boasting about having been the one to have killed it," Cynthia said, teasing the woman who had been a single rank below her good-naturedly. Helen winced. "What is it?" Cynthia asked.

"Nothing. My back has just been killing me for a while, is all," Helen said. Raki, finishing his meal (he had considerably more on his plate than any of the ex-Claymores), stood up, walked around the table, and started rubbing her back. "Right between the shoulder blades," she directed. There was an audible crack, and Helen relaxed visibly. "Oh, Raki, I could kiss you!"

"Then why don't you?" Raki teased. This was hardly out of the blue, as they had been teasing each other for a while, if not ever since it had first been revealed that Helen was attracted to Raki, but even so, Helen turned around, took his face in her hands, and did so.

Raki, being a teenage boy with a teenage libido, kissed back, and it quickly turned into a make-out session. It was his third kiss, all with different women, all with Claymores. They broke the kiss after a few tens of seconds, Helen looking into his eyes with unabated lust. "Come into the tent with me, _right now_," she said, her tone leaving no doubt as to what would happen there.

Raki turned his gaze from her silver eyes, to another set of silver eyes. "What do you want me to do, Clare?"

_Why is he asking __**me?**_ Clare tried for a safe answer: "What business is it of mine, what you do with your body?"

…and failed. Raki's gaze became angry, indicating that this was not the answer he had wanted. "Fine, then. In that case, I shall go with Helen and do whatever she wants; after all, she _did_ buy me. Come on, Helen; lets go pop my cherry." He grabbed Helen's wrist, and stalked off with her in tow.

"Clare, walk with me," Miria ordered. Clare got up and followed. They walked off into the snow-covered hills. "You did not handle that well."

"Isn't sleeping with Helen what he wanted?" Clare asked.

Miria shook her head. "No. He didn't want you to give him permission. He wanted you to say 'no.' He wanted you to claim him as your own."

"That doesn't make sense," Clare said.

"Not to you. You're not thinking like a human. Humans are highly emotional, irrational beings. He's in love with you, Clare—in fact, you're the center of his world—and humans tend to equate sex with love," Miria said.

"He's been getting more physical with us lately," Clare said, not entirely sure what she was objecting to.

"No, Clare, he has been getting more physical with _you_. You are the object of his affection. You could have said yes, or you could have said no, but by saying that you don't care what he does with his body, you're saying you don't care about _him_, and that hurt him, Clare. Whatever you decide to do about this situation, you're going to have to talk to him, Clare. Soon."

-

"Raki," Clare said.

"Hmm? Oh, what is it, Clare?" Raki said. He tried to sound disinterested, but it was obvious that he was trying.

"Come with me. We need to talk," Clare said.

Raki wrapped his coat around him, and walked at a brisk pace with her. "Alright. So talk."

"Raki…I'm sorry. I did not understand what you were saying," Clare said.

"It was a pretty difficult message to miss," Raki said.

"Not if you're a Claymore," Clare said. "We are…tools. Weapons, used to fight yoma. Love is, by and large, a foreign concept to us. The Organization discourages it, along with any other sort of attachment, but is indifferent to whatever sort of sex-lives we may have. What I'm saying is, that to us, sex is, well, a recreational activity."

"So what you're saying is that just because you don't care if I sleep around with other people does not mean you don't love me?" Raki said bitterly.

"Yes, actually," Clare said.

Raki sighed. "This is most likely stating the obvious, but until today, I was a virgin," he said. "I lost my virginity to Helen, Clare. There's nothing wrong with her, granted…but I wanted it to be you, Clare. I wanted to give it to you, Clare, as I want to give all of myself to you, but now it's not yours, its hers, and there is nothing we can do to change that."

"Do you want me to pretend that I care? To pretend to be jealous of your body and want it to myself? To begrudge Helen the joy she finds in your body, and to deny that to both of you?" asked Clare.

Raki sighed. "No. Don't bother. It would be meaningless, if that is not truly how you feel. But how do you feel about me?"

"I don't understand you," said Clare.

"Do. You. Love. Me?"

"I…" Clare sighed. "What _is_ love, Raki?"

"Love is not something that can ever be explained," Raki said.

"Then I'll never know if I love you or not," Clare said.

"If you're in love with someone, you should be able to know it," said Raki with a tone of finality.

They were silent for a minute.

"You are the center of my world, Clare, my everything, my goddess, and I don't require that you reciprocate that. However you feel about me, I am totally devoted to you. I always have been, and I always will be," Raki said.

Clare had no idea what to say to that, and had about a snowball's chance in hell of coming up with something to say that was that beautiful or eloquent. Luckily, though, he punctuated his statement by getting up and walking into camp.

-

As Raki was coming to, he had the distinct feeling of being watched. He opened his eyes, and saw that all of his companions were staring at him.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" they shouted.

"Huh? Oh, that's right; it _is_ my birthday," Raki said. Sixteen. Wow.

"We'd have gotten you a cake, or something traditional like that, but, well, it's not as if there are any open stores around here," Deneve said.

"You guys didn't need to do anything," Raki said. "I don't do much, after all."

"Oh, nonsense," Helen said, grinning. "You take care of all of the important stuff like cooking, cleaning, and laundry, while we're off playing our silly war games."

Raki smiled back at his friend-with-benefits. "Of course, _you_ would say that," he teased.

"We _did_ get you something, though," Tabitha said.

"All of the animals that we have hunted and killed in the last few months, we've skinned, and after we each made several failed attempts to tan the hide properly, Uma finally got it right about two weeks ago, as we were about to give up," Cynthia said, holding a tunic crudely fashioned out of a polar bear pelt. "Try it on."

Without even thinking twice (or, hell, once) about it, Raki stripped of his nightshirt, the only article of clothing he was wearing, and made a grab for the tunic.

Deneve eyed him appreciatively. "You're filling out quite nicely. In a few months, Helen is probably going to have to start sharing you."

Helen patted her on the back grinning. "See? You're beginning to come around."

"Now there's a scary thought: becoming more like Helen," Deneve teased. This conversation would have been very telling, had it been saying anything they all didn't already know.

Raki put the tunic on, and looked himself over. It was an oversized affair, the sleeves reaching his knuckles, and the hem reaching halfway between his knees and ankles. There was also a hood, made, apparently, from the bear's head. It was billowy (not good of something meant to keep you warm), but that could be solved by hemming the sleeves narrower and wearing a belt of some sort, and it was also itchy (as none of these Claymores could sow worth a damn, so the inside of it was riddled with seams), but that was nothing a good undershirt and –pants couldn't fix. "It's beautiful, guys," Raki said, truly touched by it. Then he changed out of it and into some more regular clothes. "I'm going to have to hem it a bit to make it usable, though." Raki had learned a thing or two about sowing (alright, stitching) from mending the Claymores' bodysuits after rough practices or accidents.

-

Raki looked over the cloak. He had tightened and shortened the ends of the sleeves, and had but a few belt loops on it. Now it would do beautifully. He took off his jacket, and put it on.

"Looks good," Miria said.

"I think so," Raki agreed. "You know what it could use, though? A matching pair of knee-length boots." He batted his eyes at her.

Miria smiled. "I'm not Helen. You're going to have to find some other buttons to push with me," she said. Then she got serious. "That reminds me of why I'm here, though."

"What is it?" Raki asked.

"Helen's right; you _are_ important to us, but not just because you take care of us. You…are good for morale. You're warm, friendly, fun, and a good outlet for affection. I'm not talking about sex, as Helen is the only one who is currently having sex with you, but, well, Claymores are not the most touchy-feely of people. Even mock-sparring with you is fun. I'm not disparaging your skills, you're good for a human, but Claymores are measured to a different standard. It's not really part of our training, and you give an outlet for that."

Raki nodded; this seemed to fit the pattern of disassociation with humanity and other Claymores, expendability, and impersonality that characterized the Organization. "Thank you. But I assume that you're not just giving me a pep talk. So, what do you want?"

"As Deneve said, you _are_ filling out, and soon you will be coming to the attention of the rest of us," Miria said.

Raki connected the dots. "So what you're saying is that you're ordering me to whore myself for the good of morale." He wasn't offended, more like mildly amused.

Miria shook her head. "No. For one thing, I'm not ordering you to do anything. You're not a warrior, after all. Besides, if you don't want to spread your legs for the whole team, as it were, it's no big deal. After all, most of us don't burn as hotly as Helen apparently does." She smirked, "Or maybe you're just that good in bed, eh?"

"Oh, she's just taking full advantage of the fact that she has me to herself while she does," Raki dismissed blithely. "So, when are _you_ going to come calling?" he asked boldly.

"Next year, if you keep developing like you have been," _and if I_'_m not freaked out by the fact that we pretty much raised you._ "Just don't turn into a muscle-bound freak," Miria said.

"I'm not planning on it," Raki said. He gave her a mock salute, "Raki of Doma, company whore, signing out, _sir!_"

Miria watched him walk away, bemused.

-

"Clare?" Raki asked. Pleaded, is more like it.

"What is it?" Clare asked.

"I'm sixteen now," Raki said.

"I realize that, Raki," Clare said.

"That's legal, in most places," Raki said.

"I realize that, too," Clare said.

"Do you want me all to yourself?" Raki said. "You can. I know you said that you don't care whom I share my body with, but it's just human nature, and I want you to be happy."

"That will not be necessary," Clare said.

"What can I do to make you happy?" Raki pleaded.

Clare wanted to take his face in her hands and kiss him. She wanted to tell him that he made her happy just by existing, that every laugh, every smile, every little habit of his filled her with warmth. She wanted to tell him that the effort he put into their bi-daily meal and into his sword practice (just so that they wouldn't feel like he was a liability) was heartwarming. She wanted to tell him that she could sit and watch him eat all day. She wanted to tell him that he gave her a reason to live, other than revenge. But Clare never did have a way with words.

"Right. I'm sorry I bothered you," Raki said. He turned away, hiding tears.

Clare grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him to her. She kissed him like she was trying to eat his tonsils right out of his mouth.

"Do you want me, then? Like I have said many times, I am yours, to do with whatever you see fit," Raki said.

"Raki, you make me happy just by existing. Every laugh, every smile, every little habit and idiosyncrasy of yours fills me with warmth. The effort you put into our every-other-day meal, as well as into sword practice—which you just do so that we won't feel like you're a burden—is…well…heartwarming. You give me a reason to _live_, Raki. Aside from revenge for Teresa, that is," Clare managed to say most of what she had wanted to; what a miracle. "Is that love, Raki? I don't know what love is, but if that is love, I love you more than life itself. I love you more than…more than…well, insert romantic cliché here."

"Clare, hearing you say that makes it all worth it. And if that isn't love, then I don't know what love is, either," Raki said with conviction.

"Shall we…?"

"For you? Anything!"

-

"That color-haired girl counted all of them one by one…what do we do, Miria?" asked Helen. "We'll be found out!"

"It is as it is," Miria said. "We can't just kill her off, and the others are starting to regain consciousness, so we can't just take them and carry them to a different place, either." They had given the other three Claymores first aid, so their lives shouldn't have been in danger.

"I've never seen a Claymore with hair that color before," Raki said.

"It's said to happen sometimes," Tabitha said. "It means that the yoma flesh didn't entirely take. She's a failed experiment. The only reason I can think that they would have given her a rank, or even allowed her to live maybe, is because they are strapped for personnel."

Helen suggested that they threaten the girl, but Miria told her that it was pointless, reminding her that they had completely erased any trace of yoma energy that leaked out of their bodies, and thus that finding them in the frozen would be like finding a needle in a haystack, even for Rafaela, who wouldn't be sent, anyway, unless the organization had proof. "So we're going to do nothing?" Helen asked. "Boring!"

Raki had to laugh. This was so like her. To Miria he said: "I could go down there. Convince them that I set up the graves, and that I put you seven somewhere else for some reason." He smiled becomingly, "I could use my masculine charms on them."

Miria shook her head. "No, that would just raise more questions than it would answer. After all, how did a lone human survive up here for seven years? And _why_ wouldn't you have gone south by now?"

"I hide whenever a yoma comes, and I remained up here to care for the cemetery," Raki said. "I have all the names and ranks memorized, if I need to prove it."

Miria smiled softly. "Sorry, but that story would be immediately suspicious. Humans tend to view Claymores as monsters. If you go down there with that story and flirt with them, they'll be immediately suspicious. Besides which, your charm probably wouldn't work on them, as they don't know you like we do."

"Its time that I move ahead, anyway," Clare said. "I've got unfinished business in the south."

"I'm coming with you," Raki proclaimed.

"It would be safer for you to stay with the others," Clare said.

"How many times must I say it? If you die, I die. I'm yours, Clare. Completely yours," Raki said.

"And if I should die, you would have nothing to live for? What about Helen?"

"Helen is fun, cute, and personable, but she's not the center of my universe. You are," Raki said. "I'm coming with you."

There was a tone of finality in the final sentence. Clare sighed, and nodded. "Very well."

"What sort of 'unfinished business' are we talking about?" Miria asked.

"I have no intention of naming it," Clare said, "but the many souls inside me will not forgive me the time I've spent here in peace and happiness already."

"Take your sword, Clare," Miria said, drawing hers.

" 'If you want to go south, do so after defeating me.' Is that how I am supposed to take this?" Clare asked.

"I don't care how you take it," Miria said, and so they fought, showing the skills that they had learned these seven years. Eventually, Miria put her sword away. "Fine, then. If you have that level of skill, you shouldn't be outdone even by high ranking single digits." The statement came as a shock to the ex-Claymores; they had realized that they had been getting stronger during these last years in isolation, but none of them had realized that they had gotten _that_ much stronger. Miria spoke to all gathered: "Today, I resign as your leader. I'm sorry. Each one of you is free to do as she pleases from now on."

"W-what?" Helen demanded.

"I will go south with Clare, and exact revenge for our fallen comrades," Miria continued. "There's no need to worry, as you have all grown strong in these seven years, and the Organization shouldn't bother you as long as you're up here, so—"

Helen interrupted her by destroyed a rock with her sword using the Drill Arm technique (partially just because she liked doing it, though—simply speaking up would have sufficed, after all). "Aren't you acting a little stuck up, now, Miria? You're not the only one who's out for revenge here!"

"Helen—"

"What have we been training for until we threw up blood during these last seven years??" Helen demanded.

"That was a little excessive, just to hide here in the north and stay alive," Deneve observed.

"I also want my revenge for Veronica and the others," Cynthia said.

"My leader is and has always been you, Miria," Tabitha said. "If you go, so shall I."

"Besides, what's the point of staying in this frozen dump if Raki's leaving?" Helen said, destroying the tense, dramatic atmosphere.

Which was thoroughly restored when Uma said: "Please…take me, too. I know I will be a drag, but I don't want to end like this, either. When push comes to shove, I don't mind if you throw me away, but please…"

Raki walked up to her and took her hands in his. "Uma, no. You're not the weakest member of any group I am a part of." He smiled wryly. "I'm human, remember? I'll never be the equal of even you."

Uma half smiled. "Thanks." She kissed him chastely on the lips.

Miria spoke: "The battle's objective this time won't be surviving, like it was seven years ago. You could even say that this battle goes against the very idea of survival. It should be even harder than the one seven years ago, too. We fought so hard for these lives, so very hard, and there is no one who will blame you if you choose to stay here. What if the warriors who lost their lives wished for you to live like this? Would that still not change your mind?"

Miria waited. No one spoke, excepting a low, dark, predatory laugh from Helen. "So we're all feeling the same. I see. Lets go, then, joined by the souls of our fallen comrades."

**Next Chapter: Epilogue: Vital Information**


End file.
